


The Taylors Case

by KuroKyuketsuki



Category: Original Work
Genre: America in 1941, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, Inspired by Art, Murder, Murder Mystery, Nighthawks By Hoper, Other, Spies, enjoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:07:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23029066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuroKyuketsuki/pseuds/KuroKyuketsuki
Summary: This is a short story I wrote for my writing class inspired by the painting Nighthawks by Edward Hoper.I have to say I'm pretty happy about how it turned out so I thought I would share it! :)The story happens in America in 1941 and I won't say anymore because 1) I suck at summaries and 2) I don't want spoil anything.Enjoy! :)P.S: English is not my first language so I apologise for the eventual mistakes… -.-"
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)





	The Taylors Case

The night was clear on the ninth of December 1941, a light breeze reminded the nightbirds walking in the street that the winter was indeed there. Edward Taylor, a gruff detective with a grumpy resting face, was making his way to a local bar, seemingly lost in his thoughts. The man was reflecting on his current investigation. A man named Alexander Smith had been assaulted in his appartment and strangled to death. The murder itself was not really surprising, as the man was an FBI agent and thus had plenty of enemies, though it made it impossible to narrow a list of suspects. That said, Edward was stuck in a corner, which made it all the more necessary for him to talk with his sister.

Despite his rough exterior, Edward was a family man, he adored his family and would do anything for them. Even more so for his sister, Amelia. The young woman was a very talented actress with a sharp mind and Edward, throughout his career, took the habit of discussing the cases he was working on with her every time he found himself in a deadlock. Her bright mind and outsider outlook never failed to guide him in the right direction. She was the main reason he had so few unsolved investigations. Although she had grown up to be a beautiful and composed young woman, Edward kept seeing her as the charming little girl she once was. He could not help but remember the adorable bundle of energy squealing with delight at the mere view of a small animal, the curly red haired child on her tiptoes trying to reach for the jar of candies hidden in the kitchen cupboard or her wide teary green eyes looking up at him, crawling under his covers after a bad nightmare while he whispered in hushed tone fun stories full of princesses, princes and magic.

The lights coming from Phillies, the bar where he was supposed to meet his sister, snapped him out of his thoughts. Edward let a warm happy smile take over his face as he spotted Amelia waiting for him at the bar and waving her arm at him through the window with a sweet and carefree grin illuminating her features. ‘Yes, ‘ he thought to himself ‘she hadn’t changed that much… ‘

The perks of being a barman, thought Daniel Phillies, was that he had access to a lot of information, the customers often forgetting he was even there and that his ears were fully functionnal despite his age. He was never bored in the small bar he owned and named after himself for lack of a better idea. Some nights the bar was full, noisy, full of conversations and drama between friends or family, a true source of entertainment and information to sate his natural curiosity, while other nights were calm, almost empty of customers but the conversations he overheard on those nights were always deeper, more meaningful and more important. Daniel liked his job.

Tonight was a slow night, he thought, only two people were present in the bar – a woman, Amelia Taylor, sitting a little to his right with her back to the doors and a man, Jack Davis, sitting far away on his left – though he expected another customer soon as the woman seemed to be waiting for someone. True to his speculations, a man in his thirties entered the establishment. The man was wearing a dark blue suit and a gray fedora. He was relatively well built and had rugged look, that contrasted with the fondness showing in his features at the moment. Daniel watched from the corner of his eyes as the man made his way toward the young woman. Daniel, with his humble age of 52, was experienced enough with people to be a rather good judge of character. The new customer, probably the woman’s relative judging by the way they greeted each other, seemed to be of the righteous kind. A man trying his best at everything he did. His straight posture and proud look in agreement with Daniel’s impression of him. All in all, he seemed to be a good man.

Amelia, however, had an air of danger around her. With her bright red hair curling around her face, her pair of fierce green eyes and her short sleeved red dress hugging her figure, she was very pretty. She was smiling sweetly at the man taking a seat next to her, greeting him with seemingly genuine hapiness, but her eyes had a sort of predatory gleam about them. True, to anyone she was the epitome of the perfect American beauty with a charming and carefree personality to boot, but to Daniel… He knew there was more to her than met the eye. He had known her for some time now – she was a master of manipulation and deception.

‘’So, ‘’ Daniel asked them‘’what will it be ?’’ He had a job to do.

‘’A glass of wine for me’’, Amelia answered cheerfully, glancing at the man next to her ‘’and a shot of whiskey for my brother, right ?’’

‘’Right, ‘’ he said, nodding, a fond look crossing his face.

Jack was sitting at his usual spot writing in his notebook again, noted Daniel while pouring the drinks. He was a regular there and came every night. He once told Daniel that the atmosphere of the bar gave him inspiration for the novel he was trying to write. Daniel liked the man. He was a little introverted but he was good company and saved him from boredom when he had no other customers since Jack never failed to come by. However, he was a little too observant for Daniel’s comfort, sometimes it was better to be oblivious. Well, Daniel hoped Jack could hold his tongue, because he was not going to be on Amelia’s bad side for him. No… He was not stupid.

Now was the time. He served the siblings their drinks, a twist of anticipation in his stomach. He did his part…

* * *

It was another night in the Phillies, another night surrounded by the cheery atmosphere of the bar, another night spent observing people and writting in his notebook. Jack Davis liked his little nightly routine he had instaured since he had discovered the bar. He felt at peace there, away from his problems of the day. The barman, Daniel, was a curious man and the two of them often discussed the conversations they overheard from the patrons of the bar. Jack, despite knowing how improper it was, liked to listen on other people’s conversations. They were great behavioral references for his novel and the more he heard, the better it was for his inspiration. He was an aspiring writter after all. He did not know why Daniel was doing it however… He guessed it was the man’s way to stay entertained and the man certainly could indulge in his curiosity since nobody ever seemed to notice him.

Daniel was notorious for his quiet manners and the subtle way he could spy on people without them even remembering he was there. In a way, it was funny to see him standing near a group of people, his gaze focused and avidly taking in everything he heard, his face never changing from his stoïcal mask. Sometimes, Daniel noticed Jack observing him and smirked, leveling his pointer finger to his lips in hush motion. Daniel sure was something else.

That night, the bar was almost empty. From his spot he could see a man and a woman – the only other customers of the night. The man was a bit intimidating, though a little smile that looked out of place on him betrayed a kind heart. Everything about him, from the softened cold stare of a man who saw too much to the unusually relaxed stance of a body under near constant pressure, screamed his affection for the younger woman next to him. Judging by his body language, the man was either a police officer or a detective – Jack saw the way he had quickly scanned the bar when he entered. If the pockets under his eyes were not an illusion created by the light of the bar, then he was probably working on a particularly difficult case too.

The woman he was talking to was beautiful. She was fire personified, Jack mused to himself. The shimmering curly strands of her hair were akin to flames dancing with the light breeze coming from the vents and her green eyes held a fierce fire within. However beautiful it was, fire was a dangerous thing though. Something told Jack that the same could be said about this woman.

The conversation the two were having seemed to start lightly, he noted, a playful smile tugged at the woman’s lips and the man was chuckling. But, as Jack kept observing them, the light tone of the exchange turned into a more serious one. The topic probably passed from a simple idle chat to a full blown heart-to-heart. None of them were smiling anymore, both adorning a serious frown and a focused gaze.

But Jack could not dwell on his observations any longer as the man suddenly met his eyes and glowered at him. Suddenly, the glisten of the beer laid in front of him became so much more interesting. After some time, he risked a glance in their direction. Daniel was bringing them their drinks. However he seemed nervous about something. His smile looked more forced than usual. The man looked up at Daniel with a polite smile. The woman smiled too, but hers was different. Wilder. More burning. More feral. Dangerous.

Something was not right.

* * *

Edward politely took his glass from the barman and waited for his sister to do the same before resuming their conversation. He had told her about Alexander Smith and how the man had been murdered. Amelia was listening intently, her face forming that little purse of her lips she did everytime she was concentrating on a problem.

‘’So, that’s about all I know,’’ Edward said, sighing tiredly ‘’the person who killed the poor FBI agent was really thorough with effacing any proof of their existence. If it wasn’t for the body of Mr.Smith, you would doubt anything even happened.’’

‘’I see… ‘’, Amelia hummed. She directed her gaze to him knowingly ‘’ You do have a theory though. I doubt you’d come to me without one. ‘’

‘’He, you know me too well. ‘’ he snorted. He took a sip from his glass, feeling the burn of alcohol sliding down his throat, before continuing ‘’Yeah, well, you see the lad was working on a case before he died… I couldn’t get too much information about, they are very strict on their secrecy policy, bordering paranoia if you ask me… Anyways, from what I did manage to gather, he was trying to dismantle a spy ring. ‘’

Amelia narrowed her eyes, her features still as calm as before. She looked at him thoughtfully, an indescriptible gleam in her eyes. Did she already piece things together ? Did she see something he missed ?

‘’So…’’, she started, her gaze focused on him ‘’You think his death is related to the case he was working on… ? ‘’ she pressed on. ‘’Also you said ‘they’, so you don’t exclude that a woman could’ve done it… ‘’ As perceptive as always. That was the sister he was so proud of. Edward felt his chest swell with pride. He rubbed his eyes, his vision a little blurry. He had not drunk that much yet, though. He must have been more tired than he thought.

‘’Yeah, ‘’ he slurred, struggling to get the words out as his vision swam more and more. He felt so tired now that he thought about it. Did his stress-induced insomnia catch up to him ? ‘’Even though Mr.Smith was a trained agent… the scene shows that… that he was caught by surprise. In these conditions, anyone… could have done it. ‘’

‘’I see… ‘’ Amelia answered. She sounded concerned. ‘’Are you alright ? Is the alcohol getting to you already ? You only took a sip though… ‘’

‘’I-I don’t know… ‘’ Edward stuttered, while black spots were filling his vision. His breath shortened, hardly reaching his lungs. He felt hot. ‘’I-I think s-something is wrong… ‘’ He looked up at her, wondering when he had laid his head down on the counter. He expected her to look worried for him, but… She was not. She was smiling down at him. What was happening ?

She sneered. Her eyes turned cold. Slowly, she reached for his hand, patting it in a comforting manner. Except it was not. Her eyes locked with his. ‘’Aw, my dear brother… ‘’ she started, her tone a strange mixte between pity and disdain. Weird… ‘’You look so tired. What’s wrong ? Did that case bother you so much that you lost your sleep ? Your breathing seems heavy… Do you have a fever ? You’re sweating… That’s quite concerning… ‘’ Her voice was slow, her gaze unforgiving. She looked like a predator playing with her prey… No… She wouldn’t… Right ? She was his sister !

The pieces were coming together in his mind. The puzzle started to make sense, but… He did not want it to make sense anymore. He refused to believe it. Surely there was another explanation, right ? He was misunderstanding the situation, right ? Or had he misunderstood it his whole life… ? His face fell as the truth dawned on him. Horror filled his mind. He jerked his hand away from hers – a part of his mind noticing the slight convulsions pulsing through it – and abruptly stood up. Maybe standing up so fast – when his vision made him feel like he was a lone raft lost in the ragging waves of a storm and his body was struggling to keep up with what he wanted to do – was a bad move, the more reasonable part of his mind told him. He staggered, took a few step back and then promptly fell to the ground with a thump, his stool following suit.

He was unable to completly wrap his mind around what was happening. Confusion, fear and betrayal warring inside his heart. How could she do that to him ? Didn’t she love him ? Did she hate him or did she simply not care about him ? He had so much to ask her – questions zipping through his mind, swarming his brain – but only one made it past his lips.

‘’ Why ? ‘’

From his position, lying on the cold hard floor like a rag doll, he could only see her cruel smirk. His vision was getting blurrier, the convulsions previously passing through his hands were spreading throughout his body. He couldn’t think straight anymore, caught in a frenzy of thoughts. He couldn’t breath. He was scared. He could feel his consciousness slowly leaving him, darkness progressively creeping at the edges of his vision. He knew it was too late for him. He was going to die. He just wanted to know why. He wanted to understand.

But she never answered. A lone tear slid down his cheek as death came upon him, a whisper of why leaving his body along with his last breath. Then his world faded to black.

It was amazing what a small dose of potassium cyanide could do, thought Amelia Taylor as she coldly observed the corpse of her brother. Only 3.1 grains of the thing, inconspicuously mixed in a drink, were needed to put someone down in less than a minute. She had felt a sick sense of satisfaction at the sight of her brother’s face once realisation struck him. When the gleeful sensation of success subsided, she was left void of emotions. She was not saddened by his death, nor did she feel sorry for him. The fool had it coming. Tricking him had been too easy.

From a very young age she had known her brother was weak to her demands and would do anything for her, especially when she used her puppy dog eyes or acted in a cute manner. She had learned that behaving in a certain way or using certain words could get her anything she wanted from anyone and eagerly used it throughout her life. This, coupled with the understanding of the way people worked and the way they thought, had led her to success. Tricking the world about who she was, she had become a famous actress and had given her access to a considerable amount of information. She reveled in the power it was giving her.

She never cared much about anyone she encountered, about anything really. All she cared about was the feeling of control she had whenever she manipulated someone to bend to her will. Other people’s feelings did not matter. They were her puppets, they did what she wanted them to do. She was the one pulling the strings, the one in control. Always.

Her brother was no exception. Up until that night, she had used him to extract information from law enforcement for the ring. But his investigation on the murder of Alexander Smith made him of more of a bother rather than a brother regarding her plans, getting too close to the truth. She no longer had any use of him.

Mister Duquesne, the spymaster, always prided the effectiveness of her work. The way she had terminated agent Smith had been flawless and she had spotlessly covered her tracks. She had concealed any clues. The assassination was an utter success. They always were. So she had to make sure this one would be too. She ignored her conspiracy associate and looked up at the distraught man shaking in the corner – the only witness – with a sadistic gleam in her eyes. She was going to make sure he would hold his tongue. Literally.

**Author's Note:**

> So, how was it? Did you like it? I hope you did! :)  
> Note aside: I can't even begin to tell you how awkward I felt researching for a poison which would fit for the story…


End file.
